“Our deeds still travel with us from afar, and what we have been makes us what we are.”

I carry my unwritten poems in cipher on my face!

Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them.

There is a great deal of unmapped country within us.

Enveloped in a common mist, we seem to walk in clearness ourselves, and behold only the mist that enshrouds others.

Any coward can fight a battle when he’s sure of winning.

It is surely better to pardon too much, than to condemn too much.

The right to rebellion is the right to seek a higher rule, and not to wander in mere lawlessness.

Marriage must be a relation either of sympathy or of conquest.

It seems to me we can never give up longing and wishing while we are thoroughly alive. There are certain things we feel to be beautiful and good, and we must hunger after them.

Every limit is a beginning as well as an ending.

Men outlive their love, but they don’t outlive the consequences of their recklessness.

Death is the king of this world: ‘Tis his park where he breeds life to feed him. Cries of pain are music for his banquet.

There are many victories worse than a defeat.

Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.

Only in the agony of parting do we look into the depths of love.

We are contented with our day when we have been able to bear our grief in silence, and act as if we were not suffering.

I hope that Beyond the Robe helps you to feel closer to the monks and nuns and to better understand their immense potential to provide leadership in their world and further insight into ours.

In the glory which overhangs Palestine afar off, we imagine emotions which never come, when we tread the soil and walk over the hallowed sites.